


Die for you

by White_Ithiliel



Series: Space trash bin [2]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: AU setting, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, league of shadows, wounded obi-wan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 17:06:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10469952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Ithiliel/pseuds/White_Ithiliel
Summary: He hadn’t seen this adversary coming. The other ninja’s blade draws closer and closer, and Qui-Gon knows he is about to die. He closes his eyes calmly, waiting for the lethal blow dealt by his opponent, a member of a rival order - mere criminals without rules or sense of justice. Being killed by one of those beings is slightly shaming, but Qui-Gon knows Obi-Wan and Anakin will avenge him. He waits, but death never comes.Instead there is a sudden gust of wind, and he hears a loud shout of denial and horror, instantly followed by a cry of pain. Somebody crashes against Qui-Gon, and his arms tighten around the person reflexively, his eyes snapping open. His gaze falls upon a familiar face, and dread clenches its frozen hand around Qui-Gon’s heart.No. It can’t be!“Obi-Wan!!”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Plot bunny](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/279867) by White Ithiliel (aka ithiliel-the-french-tolkiendil). 



> zannatinuviel beta'ed this fic AND talked me into writing it :) go thank her guys !

_He hadn’t seen this adversary coming. The other ninja’s blade draws closer and closer, and Qui-Gon knows he is about to be stabbed, knows he is about to die. Strangely enough, he isn’t particularly frightened by the thought. He has regrets, of course, but the ending of his life is of no consequence in the great order of things._

_… Still, Qui-Gon feels guilty about leaving his apprentices. They are both greatly skilled young men, more than capable to take on the League of Shadows’ leadership after his passing -  and yet, he knows they will miss him. And there is still so much he could teach them…_

_But there is nothing he can do about it now. His time has come. He closes his eyes calmly, waiting for the lethal blow dealt by his opponent, a member of a rival order - mere criminals without rules or sense of justice._

_Being killed by one of those beings is slightly shaming, but Qui-Gon knows Obi-Wan and Anakin will avenge his death._

_He waits, but death never comes._

_Instead there is a sudden gust of wind, and he hears a loud shout of denial and horror, instantly followed by a cry of pain. Somebody crashes against Qui-Gon, and his arms tighten around the person reflexively, his eyes snapping open._

_His gaze falls upon a familiar face, and dread clenches its frozen hand around Qui-Gon’s heart._

_No._ No. _It can’t be!_

_“Obi-Wan!!”_

_His apprentice slumps against him, unconscious, his skin now as white as the snow surrounding them, his pale lips slightly parted. Blood soaks his tunics._

_He isn’t breathing._

_He’s not_ breathing _!_

_Qui-Gon lowers him to the ground and searches desperately for a pulse, calling out for his young student at the same time._

_“Obi-Wan!! Obi-Wan, do you hear me?! OBI-WAN!!!”_

_But his apprentice - his_ boy _\- doesn’t answer, doesn’t even twitch._

_His heart isn’t beating._

* * *

“NO!!!”

Qui-Gon awakens with a scream, panting. He throws panicked glances around, seeking frantically for the ginger-haired young man he is sure to find in that room.

He has to make sure Obi-Wan isn’t dead, has to be sure his condition hasn’t worsened during the night.

Qui-Gon’s breathing calms instantly as his eyes finally search out the prone form of his apprentice, lying on a bed a few feet away. Obi-Wan is shirtless, his whole abdomen bandaged with white linen already stained dark red. His breathing is uneven and labored, his complexion almost ashen, and Qui-Gon can see beads of sweat glinting upon his student’s forehead from the chair in which he is sitting.

The League of Shadows’ leader drags a weary hand across his face, exhaling loudly. The end of his dream - memory - wasn’t real. Obi-Wan is alive. Obi-Wan isn’t dead.

 _Yet_.

Qui-Gon stands up, walks slowly toward the bed and crouches besides his ailing student. Shaking fingers gently trail down the young ninja’s cheek, recoiling in surprise when they suddenly encounter the beginning of a beard.

Maybe Obi-Wan isn’t so young anymore - he approaches his twenty-fourth birthday after all.

Yet, resting there on a small bed, brow furrowed in pain, he looks like a wounded child, someone Qui-Gon desires to protect at any cost.

_Yes, and you did a marvelous job so far._

Unable to sit there helplessly any longer, Qui-Gon picks up a bowl of cool water and a cloth and gently wipes the feverish forehead, doing his best to ignore the soft whimpers of protest his ministrations elicit.

“Master…” Obi-Wan moans quietly, still unconscious but voice filled with agony.

Qui-Gon can’t help but flinch. Oh gods, what has Obi-Wan ever done to deserve so much pain? What has _he_ ever done to deserve such wonderful apprentices?

As if on cue, his second student suddenly enters, looking exhausted and worried.

“Master? How is he?” asks a weary Anakin, concern distinctly audible in his strained voice.

“The same,” answers Qui-Gon, eyes still fixed on the injured ninja.

Anakin sighs and kneels besides his “brother”, taking Obi-Wan’s limp hand on his own. The student’s gaze crosses the Master’s, and they both see the same fear in the other’s eyes, the same overwhelming dread.

They shouldn’t feel this way. Death is a part of life, and as members of the League of Shadows they face it every day. But seeing loved ones die during a battle isn’t the same thing as watching them fade slowly, eaten alive by fever and weakened by their wounds.

Anakin clenches his eyelids shut, unable to look at his revered mentor’s grim expression.

“You should get some rest, Master,” he whispers hoarsely. “I’ll watch over him.”

_He is my best friend and brother as much as he is your student._

He doesn’t say that out loud, of course, but Qui-Gon hears it nonetheless.

“That won’t be necessary, Anakin, though I appreciate the offer. I will not leave him.”

_Not when he needs me so badly. If not for me, he wouldn’t be here in the first place. And I can’t sleep anyway._

Anakin nods wordlessly and squeezes Obi-Wan’s unresponsive fingers one last time before getting up and walking away, head bowed low in despair.

“Please at least consider eating, Master. I’ll have the men bring you some food.”

It is Qui-Gon’s turn to nod. He watches Anakin leave the room before turning his attention back to the wounded man lying on the bed. Obi-Wan shivers now, his head tossing from side to side as he murmurs barely audible pleas.

Qui-Gon leans closer, firmly clasping the boy’s hand just like Anakin did mere moments ago. Obi-Wan returns the grip with surprising strength, still whimpering.

“Master… make it stop… please, Master… make it stop…”

And Qui-Gon winces as if in physical pain. He may be a seasoned warrior, the leader of an antique organisation of ninjas fighting for justice, determined to destroy evil and always placing greater good before personal matters, he is still a human. And right now, one of the two orphans he took under his wing all those years ago, one of the two men he practically raised is gravely wounded, barely clinging to life and begging him to take the pain away.

Qui-Gon can’t forget how Obi-Wan threw himself between his Master and their enemy’s blade, without a second thought.

He’d give _anything_ to go back in time and prevent his _son_ from doing that.

Yes, because no matter how much he tries to deny it, no matter how much he hardens his heart, Anakin and Obi-Wan are still his sons, and no father would ever want to see one of his children sacrifice himself to save his life. Qui-Gon may never show them the depths of his pride and affection, but he couldn’t love his two apprentices more, even if they were truly his own flesh and blood.

Stroking lightly the damp and somewhat spiky hair, Qui-Gon talks softly to Obi-Wan, in soothing, hushed tones. At first they are just comforting words, meaningless words simply supposed to appease the younger man’s mind and alleviate his agony - but they quickly turn into supplications.

“Come back to me, young one, I beg you. Please recover. Please come back. Please open your eyes, Obi-Wan.”

But Qui-Gon’s pleas fall on deaf ears, and Obi-Wan’s condition doesn’t improve one bit in the next days.

Anakin spends all his time in the dojo, repeating kata after kata for hours and trouncing every ninja foolish enough to ask to spar with him. He is like a whirlwind of dark fire, a hurricane of despair, anger and fear. Unstable, unstoppable, unpredictable. 

Qui-Gon himself has no choice but to leave Obi-Wan’s bedside. He leads the League of Shadows; he has great responsibilities that he cannot simply push aside for the sake of one apprentice. Regardless how much he wishes too.

He visits his student every night, though, and while he can’t seem to find any rest even in sleep, at least tending to the ailing young man helps to soothe his frayed nerves somewhat.

But then, after almost a week has passed, Obi-Wan finally opens his eyes.

Qui-Gon is beside him when it happens, checking the bandages and making sure they don’t need to be changed again.

Anakin is also there, sitting in a corner with his head bowed.

They both start when they see the blue irises staring at them, glazed with exhaustion, pain, and confusion.

“Mas…”

A cough.

“Master? Ana… kin?”

Anakin can’t think of anything to reply, so he leaves the talking to Qui-Gon and presses a glass of water to his brother’s lips, supporting Obi-Wan’s head as he drinks deeply.

Once the weakened young man finishes, Qui-Gon gently squeezes his shoulder and smiles, overjoyed but doing an impressive job to conceal it.

“You had us worried, young one,” he admonishes half-heartedly.

Obi-Wan lets his eyelids drop shut and tries to smirk, though it becomes more like a wince.

“Sorry…”

And he falls asleep again, his breathing already easier and his expression peaceful.

“He will be all right,” murmurs Qui-Gon, a deep relief hidden in his tone.

And for the first time since the battle, Anakin believes it.


End file.
